


―until that june morning

by shuckit



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 17:06:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15586626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuckit/pseuds/shuckit
Summary: A modern take on Anastasia Broadway's song In a Crowd of Thousands.





	―until that june morning

**Author's Note:**

> if you're the type of person who can listen to music w words and read at the same time, listen to the song and try to spot the obvious parallels: https://open.spotify.com/track/16pU4fqlBvH6rX5AI99lrF
> 
> i'm trying to get better at not screaming how much i hate my writing @ everybody but please ignore how badly this develops :(
> 
> (also ive never been to chicago nor a train station so i just tried to make it poetic bc im a huge romantic lol goodnight)

It was hot, not a cloud in the sky. Hair was sticking to the back of Anya’s neck as the train lurched to a stop in the station with a grinding halt. The train doors shuddered open and a gust of fresh air washed across her skin. Sucking in a lungful of air, that held the scent of cigarette smoke and sweet coffee, she allowed herself to be swept alongside countless passengers into the bustling train station. She took a left, her flats thudding against the asphalt as she commenced her twenty minute walk to work. 

It was nothing unusual; she’d done the same routine walk every morning since she’d been hired as a kindergarten class’s teaching assistant. Absolutely nothing had changed within those two months ― her bookbag constantly tapped the side of her thigh as she walked, she held her head high and her gaze clear, and powered through whatever weather Chicago decided to throw at her. Sleeting rain, dancing snow, occasionally even hail, and of course the clear, evershining heat of June. It was, in fact, a warm June morning and Anya did her best to ignore the uncomfortable warmth coursing through her body as the sun shone directly on her layers of clothing. She would easily choose the snow or rain over the disgusting side effects of the heat; maybe it was the Russian in her. 

Alongside the weather was the almost perfect timing. Each morning, at exactly eight twelve the train doors would slide open and exactly as she passed the Railtown Cafe, her phone would chime with her daily email from her local retail store. The timing was precise and exact ― she got to places when she needed to and knew entirely just how her day would pan out. The regularity in her life was something so fluid, she’d never exactly noticed it.

One thing that had remained consistently predictable for her two months walking twenty minutes to work had been the dimpled stranger nearly always three steps ahead of her. He’d always reach the street corner first and Anya would get stopped by the light while he continued, watching as he melted into the sea of people. At first, he wasn’t noticeable. He was just a blurry, unfamiliar face in a crowd of thousands. But gradually over time, she began noticing how often she saw him and it became a habit to absentmindedly note his presence as she commenced her walk. _Oh, there he is, the dimpled guy_. She didn’t think much of him and she never attempted conversation ― he was simply an ordinary thread in the weaving of her life. As regular and customary as the buildings she walked by everyday. She didn’t think too much about them, they were just _there_. As with the dimpled guy.

Until that perfectly clear, June morning.

It was an absent minded realization, something that just quietly clued in as she walked, a passing thought. The dimpled guy. He wasn’t there. Her head swiveled as she tried to catch a peek of the strangers surrounding her but none of them fit the tall, skinny form she’d habitually grown to recognize. It was a strange, twisting gut feeling that confirmed this morning would visibly change things.

The streetlight was in sight ― the one he’d always reached before her. It was there that their journey together was always cut off as he walked away, dissolving into the parade of bodies.

Unexpectedly, a figure flashed past, brown hair flopping on his forehead, and the perceptible flash of his dimples identified him as _him_. She frowned slightly, watching as he jogged, trying but failing to dodge the people clustering the sidewalks. He accidentally bumped into a chic woman with the finest eyeliner wing Anya had ever seen who shot him a ruffled, annoyed look. How could he possibly be in such a rush when they were exactly on time as they had every morning since?

He twirled around, his gaze finding Anya's. She stifled her surprise as he walked backwards, his front facing her, their two gazes locked. “I’ve been winning for two months, can’t stop now,” he declared loudly, a smug beam plastered across his boyish features. He ducked his head in a feeble bow before triumphantly smirking, “have a good day, see you tomorrow,” and vanishing into a tangle of people. To beat her to the streetlight.

Of course, that was it. He’d always beaten her to the streetlight and he couldn’t allow her to reach it first. _That_ was what this had all been about? It was a race? 

Anya’s step didn’t waver although she could feel several people’s gazes lingering on her before darting away. The attention was unwanted, she decided, as she tried to process what the devil had just happened. If anything, she was most surprised he’d noticed her as she had noticed him; she’d been behind him, mainly hidden from his gaze, after all. She couldn’t help but laugh to herself at the sudden twist her morning had taken; there had been a shift in the balance of things. An incomprehensible falter in her daily ritual. 

But fine, if he wanted to make her walk to work a race, she’d play. Her competitive energy boosted her step as she began thinking ahead, planning the running shoes she’d wear to work the next morning. . .

Anya’s thoughts cleared and she focused on the people ahead, hoping to catch one final glimpse of her soon-to-be-runner-up. With the sun in her eyes, he was gone. But she knew even then, in that crowd of thousands, she’d find him again.


End file.
